In a recent post, I explored the general utility of music to deepen our emotional experiencing and teach our hearts life-giving truths. We often experience a distance between what our brains think and what our hearts feel, but music and art can help close that gap. And teaching our hearts is usually a matter of practice. Rarely can we unlearn or replace outdated and well-worn patterns of feeling with a single lesson. It takes repetition and rehearsal. All the better if we can approach such lessons with curiosity and compassion, for these facilitate growth.
In this post, I would like to examine a song that’s been popular on Christian radio, because it perfectly dovetails with some ideas I’ve been chewing on for a while. It’s called “Who I Am” by Ben Fuller.
In it, the artist notes the discrepancy between how he sees himself and how God sees him. He begins, “I stand in front of the mirror / But I don’t like who’s looking back at me.” It represents a pattern that we all experience: we are confronted with negative thoughts (this happens automatically; it is not something we can choose to avoid), but then we have the opportunity to choose our response. Many people feel a sense of obligation to self-criticize here. They linger on shoulds and supposed tos. These generate a sense of shame and often leaves us stuck. But that’s not how Jesus treated people.
I love the choice made in this song instead. Very quickly — without discounting the reality of the self-consciousness and doubts — the perspective shifts: a conscious turning toward God’s view. After a quick acknowledgement of the temptation to focus on “who I’m supposed to be,” it becomes a prayer: “In every trial, lift me higher / Through the fire, hold me tighter / Remind me again that I was made for more.” Notice it’s not judging or trying to ignore the negativity. These typical responses can serve to more deeply entrench us. Instead, it seeks a higher perspective, something that outweighs the heaviness we feel.
By the way, studies have shown that prayer literally unlocks new ways of thinking. It can help our systems get out of fight or flight, communicating divine comfort and perspective in challenging circumstances. For the person of faith, it’s bigger than that, though. We believe God moves. We believe he responds beyond the inherent physiological benefits; he can intervene through time and space and very literally change things.
But sometimes we don’t want change. We say we do, yet we are bound by old pacts. Ultimately, we must examine who or what determines our beliefs and behavior. Will it be parents, pasts, trauma, anxieties, depression, culture, friends, fears, influencers, marketers? Will it be our emotions? Our baser impulses? Or will it be God?
Sometimes therapy is about raising the client’s awareness. The therapist helps the client to realize a misalignment of values so they can respond and make adjustments allowing them to experience less distress and a greater sense of integrity because their actions are now lining up with their values.
So my dear reader, I ask with the greatest of compassion, are you allowing God to direct how you speak to yourself?
In my experience, self-talk is where Christians are most damningly judgmental, most seething with hatred, most unforgiving — ultimately, most hypocritical. Even for the mature and outwardly humble Christian, self-talk frequently remains the greatest bastion of pride in the believer’s heart, the place where they most value their own opinion over God’s.
So what do we do about it?
To begin, I believe there must first be submission and repentance. If you have been unchristian to yourself, that behavior is based upon an old agreement, an old testament if you will. This part of your heart needs to accept the gospel, then be baptized in truth.
In the water, take me under
Fill my lungs to speak Your wonder
You brought me out of the darkness, I was made for more (for more, for more, for more)
Who I am in the eyes of the Father
Who I am His love set free
Who I was I left at the altar
I am Yours Lord, I believe
It's who I am (I'm a child of the most-high God and the most-high God's for me)
It's who I am (I'm a child of the most-high God and the most-high God's for me)
You gave up everything for me to have everything
For all of eternity, a song in my lungs to sing
You gave up everything for me to have everything
For all of eternity, a song in my lungs to sing
After accepting the gospel, we then get to live like it. We can carry around our chains, or we can cast them off. Every time someone tries to give them back, we can set them down again. We can say, “Only God tells me how to treat myself.” And we can act like it. We can rehearse truth until our heart learns and echoes gospel. Until Jesus’s treatment of us and our treatment of ourselves are one and the same.
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